


Exit Through the Gift Shop

by sallysorrell



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 20:21:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6092917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallysorrell/pseuds/sallysorrell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Howard and Vince had unintentionally created their own reality, and could never escape it.  They had difficulty speaking to other people - Vince because he had only ever met animals, and Howard because he had only ever clicked with Vince.  They both think they must look hopeless, from the outside.</p>
<p>A story for the Zoo Times and a crush.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exit Through the Gift Shop

_ Vince first visited a zoo when he was ten years old.  _

_ It was a school trip, which he only recalled because Howard spent the entire day next to him, trying to pronounce all the scientific species designations while Vince pressed his face between the bars and asked the animals for their real names instead.  Vince was happy to provide all of them with little clumps from his candyfloss while they told him about their lives.   _

_ He admitted, to Howard, that this was the whole of his lunch.  Even though they had only met a month prior to this, Howard was accustomed to sharing his sandwiches with Vince.  They sat beside each other on the trip back to school, and Howard tore the bread down the middle.  Vince kicked his feet excitedly as he spoke, relaying the best stories from the animals, and Howard learned to believe his collection of rumours about the new boy which was - due to his small circle of friends - admittedly few, but enduringly unusual. _

_ He’s never seen them in cages.  Said he was raised in the jungle, with all sorts of animals wandering around and looking after him.  No one knows about his parents… _

_ Howard had never thought to ask, even when all of Vince’s invitations were prefaced with ‘m’ auntie’ or ‘m’ uncle.’  They began finding themselves together at Howard’s house, where Vince enjoyed being fussed over. _

_ They were always at Howard’s house, where there were no animals for Vince to talk to. _

***

Vince pouts as he glances over at Howard, who has finally managed to fall asleep.  The hut is, as Howard claims, the only place he  _ can _ sleep.  He relies on a restless day followed by a rigorous shift of night-watch to knock him out.  Vince had shrugged at his choice of words, but promised to stay quiet while Howard reset the sheets on the lower bunk.  

Vince is not tired yet; he’s had two cups of coffee and about as much sugar.  By now, they are comfortable sharing the hut, setting up their mattresses in frames or along the floor.  Usually, Vince is already dreaming by the time Howard stifles his thoughts. 

In all the years they’ve known each other, Vince has never watched Howard sleep.

It is not what he expects; it is fitful but eerily silent.  Howard wakes up several times throughout the night, looking embarrassed and apologetic, but ultimately, he thanks Vince for staying quiet and he tries to drift off again. 

Vince shrugs and moves to retrieve his checklist from the wall beside the door.  He does not read the words to identify it, but sees the glittery shapes on the top of the page.  On his sheet, the animals’ names are represented by their pawprints, carefully recreated in ink, while Howard’s are printed and followed by serial numbers.  Vince hates those.

According to his list, they should spend their next shift in the deer enclosure. 

***

_ Howard and Vince had unintentionally created their own reality, and could never escape it.  They had difficulty speaking to other people - Vince because he had only ever met animals, and Howard because he had only ever clicked with Vince.  _

_ Howard never learned which faces to make or which words to use, because Vince was a completely blank gauge.  When Vince told Howard about the time he’d become tangled up in a cobra’s nest, Howard thought he was meant to laugh.  Vince returned this, confused, and rewrote his memory of the event.  _

_ Eventually, Vince recalled nothing but happiness from his time in the jungle. _

***

Vince walks to the deer enclosure alone.  He has turned back the dials on Howard’s alarm, and thinks he can lie sufficiently if Fossil is concerned with Howard’s absence.  It is only when Howard arrives beside him, right on time but still checking his wristwatch, that he realises he turned them the wrong way.

“Alright,” he says without thinking.  Howard returns it then yawns for less time than usual.  

The oldest of the deer turns to Vince and smiles.   _ You’ve told him _ ? she asks.  Vince tries to shake his head nonchalantly, but only manages to go undetected because Howard’s eyes are shut.

_ You should tell him _ , the doe continues,  _ there’s not much time. _

“I know,” Vince mumbles back.

***

_ Vince never learned how to talk about love.  He knew how to find food and to share shelter, to stroke a special way as a greeting, to nuzzle friends, to snuggle together for warmth and safety.  _

_ Howard’s knowledge of love was based more in gesture than practice.  He observed couples exchanging bouquets and kisses.  He knew that meals were something sacred and mysterious.  His parents took turns cooking and cleaning and walking with him to school.  His mother would hold his hand, until giggles from other students told him he was too old for this, and he decided he did not need to touch anyone ever again. _

***

Vince is tracing his fingers over the doe’s spots when Howard finally steps toward them, holding a bucket of grain.  He prepares a fistful of it, which the animal eventually accepts.

“So,” Vince begins, “I was thinkin’ of going for lunch with someone on Friday.”

“Yeah,” grunts Howard. “Why’re you telling me?”

_ Because you’re the someone _ , the doe laughs to herself.  Vince pinches her neck to quiet her, always forgetting that Howard has no hope of understanding her or any of the animals.

“Never been out for lunch, now, have I?” Vince asks.  Howard tries to make a surprised face, but looks just as uninterested as Vince expects him to be. 

“Me neither,” says Howard.

“Right, but you’re better at that romantic stuff.”

Howard nods with his lips pursed; this is news to him.  Vince continues.

“I’m not sure where we should go, or what type of food.”

“Why don’t you let her _ \-- _ ” Vince’s unimpressed face told him to change this, “Him?  Why don’t you let him choose?”

“Could do,” says Vince. “Cheers.  Then what’d’ya reckon - if you went for a meal together an’ it was going really well, d’you think you’d go back to yours?”

“I don’t do that sort of stuff,” he mutters, “I’m not a fan of physical relationships, you know that.”

“No, like for cake ‘n’ coffee or something.  You make nice cakes, and you love showin’ ‘em off, I know you do.”

“So, in  _ your _ fantasy, I’m there making cakes for you and your boyfriend?  You’ve gone wrong.”

***

Howard finds Vince in the hut later that evening, untangling fairy lights.  He is wearing what he claims are his highest heeled boots and teetering away on the couch, trying to reach a nail near the ceiling.

“You need a hand with that?” Howard says, instead of something like ‘use the ottoman, you idiot.’  

Vince hears ‘I love you’ and steps down, which Howard understands as  _ ‘please _ , yes.’  They both think they must look hopeless, from the outside.

“What’re they for?” Howard asks, as he secures the end.

“Thought it might be nice to come back to, after night-watch.  Not too bright, but enough to stop you tripping over the couch, I reckon.”

Howard rolls his eyes, but squints.  Vince is smiling and humming to himself, and knotting the rest of the lights around the bunk bed. 

***

_ Vince had imagined Howard saying ‘I love you’ nearly every day since they’d met.  He started his dreams hopefully, eagerly, knowing Howard was waiting for the perfect moment.   _

_ Shivering and tied together in the arctic was not the perfect moment, by any means.  At first, Vince assumed he’d misheard, but Howard’s quiet breaths and obsessive slouching said otherwise.  Then, he laughed at it as one would at a poorly-told joke.  _

_ It was not something they wanted to talk about, not for a long time.  Not until the real perfect moment presented itself. _

***

On Friday, Vince finds himself alone in the deer enclosure, just before lunch break.  He strokes the call button on his walkie-talkie, gathering courage.  The doe nudges him, for the second time, so he sighs and removes the radio from his belt.

“Hey, Howard,” he says, to the break in static.

“What is it?”

“Do you--?” the doe nudges him again, “What’d you want for lunch today, hmm?”

Howard holds his call button down long before answering, leaving Vince to waver in the silence.

“Thought you were going out,” Howard finally says.

Vince feels the doe’s nose, cold and wet, rolling up the cuff of his coat.  “ _ Okay _ !” he says to her.

“Yeah, I am.”

“I--”

“I thought you might want me to bring something back?  I haven’t picked a place yet, I’ve been…”

“No, that’s alright.  Have fun.”

Vince spends his lunch hour alone, with packets of outdated vending machine sweets, listening to the buzz of his radio.

***

_ The Zooniverse faced closure more often than Vince could count.  It always seemed serious - at least to Howard - but never ended up that way.  Vince was optimistic. _

_ Until they lost more and more animals.  Some were moved to less dubious conservatories, others escaped and were never searched for, and the remaining few died while Vince held them and sobbed.  Howard always stood at the door to the enclosure, afraid to say or do anything wrong. _

_ Bob Fossil was not a mean-spirited man; he offered Vince and Howard a month to design their own redundancy packages, if they could find homes for the leftover animals. _

_ Vince was in the gift shop, finishing the glazes on a set of saucers.  He found his tea-set memorial series to be both a healing and a profitable venture, but it didn’t line up with Fossil’s plans. _

_ He did not hear Howard as he shuffled in and sat down across from the cash register, which featured speckles of white paint.  Vince was painting a deer’s face onto the centre ring of a chipped saucer. _

_ “I thought she was alright,” Howard tried to make his voice sound sad, “Isn’t she?” _

_ “Yeah,” Vince set down the brush and allowed it to roll across the table, “she’s fine.  Gotta find her somewhere to go, is all.” _

_ “You’re good at that sort of stuff,” Howard caught the brush and returned it, “We can make plans to visit her, as well, wherever she goes.” _

_ Howard’s best attempts at comforting Vince were reflected in a massive foldable chart, with columns for animals’ names and rows for their new homes.  He was drafting a timetable for visits, in his head, and would move it to paper as soon as Vince warmed up a bit.  _

_ “I wanted to take her with us,” Vince admitted. _

_ “Well,” sighed Howard, “Naboo’s only got room for one of ‘em, he said, since he’s letting both of us stay with him.” _

_ “Yeah,” Vince’s voice became momentarily bright, “so I picked the biggest animal we’ve got.” _

_ “Serves him right.” _

***

Howard has resigned himself to the silence of the hut, and draws the curtains shut to couple this with darkness.  If he can stop himself worrying about whether or not he’ll be able to fall asleep for the rest of his life, he’ll be able to take advantage of his last night in the hut.  According to prodding from the previous day, Vince is out for dinner somewhere, with someone.  Howard wasn’t listening, and Vince was barely answering.

He clicks on a tape of soft jazz and paces the room in time, repeatedly insisting on ‘just one more song’ before he gives up and goes to bed.

Vince catches him flipping the tape.

“How was dinner?” Howard says.  He leaves the tape on the counter, where Vince sets a paper bag.

“Dunno yet,” Vince replies.  He tilts his head toward the bag until Howard opens it.

“I thought you were going out with--”

“Just me,” Vince grins, “You think I’d leave you alone on our last shift?  What about all the good times we’ve had here?”

“Yeah.”

“Had to try for one more,” Vince explains. He removes two cups of soup from the bag, and promises they’re still warm.

***

_ They never managed to finish the puzzle.  Of course they didn’t, it was much too difficult for two children.  They sat on pillows on the floor at Howard’s, every afternoon for weeks. _

_ Vince stared at the puzzle in awe, regardless.   _

_ “I like the bear better that way,” he said, when Howard insisted on replacing the pieces correctly, “looks friendly that way, don’t he?  He’s got his teeth out, on the real piece.” _

_ “Didn’t you see bears in the jungle?” Howard asked.  He tried to swap the sky piece, but Vince swatted him away. _

_ “Sometimes,” he admitted.  He did not remember enough to elaborate. _

_ Vince slid both hands under his pillow, and seemed to float closer to Howard.  He set his head on Howard’s shoulder, and, with one hand, gently brushed his back. _

_ “What’s that for?” Howard pulled away.  _

_ Vince thought for a moment, struggling to give the gesture a direct English translation.  He shrugged, and pressed their foreheads together, instead. _

_ “It’s Jungle for, ‘I like it this way, but I like you and don’t want you sad about it.’  Alright?” _

_ “Alright,” said Howard, confused but content. _

***

“It’ll be alright, won’t it?” Vince asks.  He takes both empty soup cups and sets them down near the door, between their suitcases.

Howard pulls the duvet up to his chin, and forces himself to say ‘yeah.’

Their mattresses are in the middle of the room, on the ground, and the bed-frame has been broken down and put into boxes.  Vince’s fairy lights are now a tangled puddle of light in the furthest corner.

“I meant  _ we’ll _ be alright, yeah?”

Vince perches on the edge of his mattress, and reaches hesitantly to remove his boots.

“Yeah,” Howard echoes, “We shouldn’t have to stay at Naboo’s too long, if both of us can find--”

“ _ You _ , Howard.  Will  _ you  _ be alright?  I know you were just getting used to it here, to staying overnights ‘n’ all, and if I can help you out at Naboo’s I want you to tell me.”

Howard shuts his eyes, as if this will prevent him from feeling ridiculous.  It turns out this only makes it worse, and he tugs the blanket higher.

“No, I’ll come up with something,” he says, “I can handle it, Vince, I’m always changing.  Evolution Moon, they call me, when-”

“That’s awful,” Vince pats his floral-print pillow, and sinks into his bed.  Howard turns his head, trying to watch.  After catching this, Vince sits up and slides his mattress over, until it is pressed against Howard’s.  

“Right,” Howard admits, “so it  _ may  _ take a bit of time.”

Vince nuzzles Howard’s shoulder, which silences him immediately.  He must peel back the blanket to confirm this is actually happening.  Vince flashes a reassuring smile. 

“What,” Howard’s voice is quiet, “is that jungle-speak for ‘it’s alright?’”

Vince’s hair is tickling Howard’s neck as he nods, and Howard can feel soft vibrations when Vince sighs and speaks.

“I can put my bed in your room, just like this.”

“Sure, why not.”

“Help you sleep, wouldn’t it?”

Vince folds his arm so his hand reaches the middle of Howard’s chest, where he traces circles, gradually making them wider and wider.  Howard is surprised to find that his eyes stay shut, relaxed rather than embarrassed. 

“I’m sick of sayin’ it, so what’s jungle for ‘yeah’?”

Vince giggles, and reaches to set one of Howard’s hands over his. 

“That’s close enough,” he says.

***

They have shared an upstairs bedroom in Naboo’s flat for nearly five years before it happens.

The perfect moment. 

Vince and Howard are visiting a zoo, lunches packed in the bag over Howard’s shoulder, when Vince notices the deer enclosure.  He takes Howard’s hand and leads him there.

The doe is not there; she never has been.  But Vince stares through the chain-links, nods at the animals, then smiles back at Howard.

“I love you, too,” he recites.  Howard takes a frantic look around, assuming Vince is talking to someone else.  Whatever he does, he cannot let himself laugh.

Howard has imagined Vince showing this for years, writing him poems, leaving him flowers, cooking with him or for him.  But none of this happens, and none of this fits Vince.

“Too?” Howard confirms, stabbing one finger into his chest. 

Vince’s hand meets Howard’s, settling over his chest.


End file.
